Sam's Tape
by Faerax
Summary: One of the reasons Dean doesn't like Sam picking the music. Just some fluff.


Disclaimer: Supernatural doesn't belong to me. Sam and Dean don't belong to me, more's the pity. I am not profiting off of this, nor do I ever intend to. The borrowed song isn't mine either, but I'll tell you whose it is in the fic. I now turn you over to your regularly scheduled fan fiction. -Faerax

SPN 

I didn't think he'd actually make me do it. I always knew Dean was about as evil as the things we hunt in the night, but this was extreme, even for him.

It started innocently enough. I'd offered to drive, and Dean obliged me by handing over the keys. We were 90 miles out of Atlanta by sundown, rolling across the Georgia state, when I noticed Dean was asleep. I decided that I'd take advantage of the moment.

It took a few minutes of digging around driver's seat, but I found it. A cassette tape of inordinate value, because it wasn't Metallica, AC/DC, or any other one of Dean's bands. It was probably the only cassette tape I still owned, and that was only because I hadn't had a chance to convert it to MP3 yet. That reminded me, I needed to pick up the cord so that we could convert it. I'd just give Dean the puppy dog act and ask him to turn the EMF detector back into the Walkman(R) it had been in its previous life. It sometimes was an advantage to be the little bro.

Double checking to make sure Dean was still checking his eyes for light leaks, I substituted my tape for Dean's, and enjoyed as the tape quietly played. My foot was pushing down on the accelerator, and the engine of the Impala was keeping time to the music. The tires added their music where the rubber met the road. I wanted to turn up the volume, but I figured that would wake him up, and that, in turn, would start the "It's my car so I pick the music" argument. Better to have quiet music, and get to enjoy it, then to have loud music, and an argument.

I knew I was grinning like an idiot listening to the tape. It didn't help that the first song was perfect for Dean. Listening as the tape played, I realized you could apply most of the lyrics of the songs to our lives (with one notable exception), but that it really didn't matter in the end. The driving beat of the rock music was carrying us through the night like a bat out of hell.

Sadly, like most good things in life, it came to an abrupt end. I didn't see the pothole before I hit it, and with a mighty clang the Impala fell into the hole, and then climbed back out. Dean woke, startled, and I acted like nothing happened.

Dean looked at me suspiciously, but couldn't actually recall why he woke up, so I at least didn't get reamed for hitting the pothole.

Then Dean heard the music.

"SAMMY! You know that you can't listen to that in my CAR!"

My 45 minutes of ecstasy were now officially over.

"Oh, for crying out loud, Dean, you were asleep! You didn't even notice!"

"I told you never, ever to listen to that tape in my car! Today is your execution day." Dean's eyes lit with fire.

"I don't see what the problem is, Dean. It's not like I crashed the car or anything." I tried my best injured puppy look on my brother, and it had no effect. This was not good.

"No, you didn't crash the car, but Dad almost did when he heard you singing along with the tape!" My brother's rage was palpable.

"Oh, so because Dad didn't like me singing along, the tape's eternally banned?" I tried for the offended puppy dog look.

"Yes, Sam, forever and always. Never to disturb the amplifiers of the speakers ever again. You knew that and for that you will be punished." Dean leveled his most serious I'm-gonna-kill-something expression on me.

"Fine. Here!" I ejected the tape, and fumbled it one-handed into the case. Grabbing Metallica I shoved it in the tape deck, remaining in the offended puppy dog stance.

I started to pull over to the side of the road, determine to let Captain CassetteControlFreak drive.

"Keep driving, Sammy." It was not a tone to be argued with.

So I kept on driving.

I had thought that driving for the rest of the night was going to be my punishment, but my brother had something much more devious in mind. Dean ordered me to stop at a bar and pull in. I assumed he was going to go hustle pool, but after he got out, he came over and knocked on my window. When I ignored him, he calmly opened the door and dragged me out.

"Sammy, we are going to walk into that bar, and you are going to pay for listening to that tape in such a way that you will never live it down."

We went into the bar, one of the more family-friendly establishments that we'd passed. It was about 9 pm, just late enough the kids were home, and the teenagers were out dating. The bar was not one of my brother's usual types, having no bikers or weapons decorating the interior.

My brother smiled; a truly evil expression on his face.

"Sammy, do you see that, over there?" He pointed with one leather clad arm to a small amp with a microphone attached. "Do you know what that is, Geek Boy?"

"Yeah, it's a Karaoki machine." I looked at my brother, sure that the horror was evident in my expression when I realized what he was about to make me do.

"Yes, Sam, and you are going to use it. I pick the song you sing. Don't worry, it'll be off of your favorite tape." Dean stalked off to the woman running the machine, and began to talk to her. I ran into the bar, and ordered 2 beers, thinking I could sweeten my brother's temper, just a little, with one of the adult beverages. I even ordered his favorite, which I privately thought tasted like concentrated horse piss.

Dean came back, still smiling that evil smile. I offered him one of the beers, and he refused. I realized that there was no escape.

"You're all set up Sammy, although there's a bit of a line. You're on seventh."

It would give me time to finish the beers, at least. Maybe start on finishing off a bottle of vodka.

I considered distracting him by telling him about the pothole, but realized that would only take me out of the frying pan and into the fire.

I finished both beers before my name was called. There wasn't enough time for the vodka. Oh well, two out of three ain't bad. Glaring daggers at my brother I went up to the microphone. If I didn't do this, he'd just shave my head during the night or something worse, so better to get the public embarrassment over with now. I wouldn't have to worry about repercussions later on if I did it. I didn't wonder what song he'd pick. I knew. The one that got the tape banned from all tape players everywhere after Dad heard me singing along to the song. He almost crashed the car when he realized what the lyrics were, which he did in the middle of me bellowing them from the backseat in what had to be one of the longest road trips we'd ever taken. He did drive into a ditch. That was enough. My taste in music was never indulged in within the hearing of either my brother or my father again.

Suddenly I knew how to turn the situation around. If I was to deal with this public embarrassment, so too, would Dean. I didn't care it would start another prank war. I didn't care if Dean would shave my head. It would be so worth it to see the expression on his face.

The music started to play.

I closed my eyes, pretending I was unwilling to look at Dean's face as I sang the song he had so carefully chosen for me. In truth, I'd burst out laughing if I saw him. Towards the end of the song, I made sure to be back by the attendant, in order to hand her the microphone. I knew I would have to ditch the mic and make it back across the floor quickly for my plan to work. The song reached its last chorus, and I opened my eyes. I made sure to stare, really stare with all the heartfelt emotion I could muster in my face as I crooned the last lines of the Meat Loaf song explicitly to him.

"I want to give you some love. Surf's up, and so am I."

Before I could break out laughing, I tossed the mic to the attendant, and hoofed it across the floor, to the table where my brother sat, so that I could take advantage of his shock at me turning the tables on him.

"Dean, I just want to say, I love you man." I very quickly leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, knowing exactly how much he hated being kissed by anyone that was not a lithesome figure of the opposite sex. Then I ran for the door to the bar, while looking back at the bar mirror to see Dean's reaction.

True to form, Dean turned about three shades of red, before he started moving. I'd about 10 feet on him, but when he started moving, he moved fast. He knocked over the chair and started chasing after me.

"SAAAAAMYY! Little Bro or not, you are so dead!"

I just laughed and ran to the Impala, clutching the keys in my hand as I peeled out, leaving Dean chasing after his own car.

AN: Inspired by the album Bad Attitude by Meat Loaf. And the song Surf's up, which nearly got me in trouble for laughing hysterically at work because of that line. And the times I tried to kiss my older sister when I was a kid just 'cause I knew it cheesed her off. Points if you can ID the Meat Loaf songs alluded to in this fic. The songs and Meat Loaf aren't mine, but they are excellent.


End file.
